


where the altar once stood

by a_novel_idea



Series: the hunt [2]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4119070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There isn’t much of the Temple left, not after all these centuries, but the foundation is still mostly visible, and he knows where the altar once stood. Light is just starting to top the hills when he lays the stag on the now-gone altar, and he can hear church bells starting to ring in town; no one will be around to bother him, not today, and probably not tomorrow. He lays his bow on the ground by the stag, along with the arrows that killed it, and sits down to just let himself be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the altar once stood

It’s November when Dr. Jane Foster and her lab assistant, Darcy Lewis, arrive at the tower.

He remembers them both from Puente Antiguo, when Thor came to Earth the first time. Dr. Foster had been livid when Coulson had taken her research away, and the two of them, plus Dr. Selvig and Thor, would have been a major annoyance if they hadn’t been so amusing. At least until the giant, lava shooting sentient being had shown up. That hadn’t been very fun. But Dr. Foster had cooled off and cut them some slack when they returned all of her notes and equipment with the promise of serious funding being thrown her way.

Darcy he remembers a little more clearly than Dr. Foster. He remembers the frown on her face when Coulson and the rest of the team cleared out their lab, he remembers the way she herded civilians out of the way instead of running herself, and he even remembers the delicate tattoo of a snake crowned in laurel wreaths etched into her upper arm. When everything was done, and the Asgardians had gone back home, he had asked her about it.

“Snakes and laurel wreaths, huh?”

She had glanced down at his wrists and then up at him through her lashes.

“Three pillars, huh?”

He decided that he liked her.

***

It’s December when Clint leaves Phil a message that says he’ll be back in a week. (He won’t be.)

It’s two in the morning when he goes, and he swears he isn’t sneaking out like some teenager, but there’s a SHIELD transport headed in his direction that leaves in an hour and he wants to be on it. And it’s not that Phil would try to stop him, he’d probably encourage it actually, but he doesn’t want to talk about it either, and he definitely doesn’t want the other man trying to tag along. He wants to go alone and bring in the new year like he tries to do every year.

No one on the flight gives him a second look. There are two pilots and three agents all escorting cargo to a base in the Middle East, but he’ll jump ship the first time they lad to refuel. He’ll hire a charter plane with the cash he’s got on him, or he might hop a train, whichever one feels better when they set down in Istanbul. He might steal a car, just for old times’ sakes.

***

He hops a train; well, he hops several trains. (Phil would be disappointed if he stole a car.)

Istanbul takes him to Bursa, then to Eskisehir, then to Selcuk.

Four miles south of Selcuk is a forest no one has touched in years. Trees have grown through what used to be paths, reclaimed anything human hands have ever touched. Animals roam unfearful; no one bothers these woods without a clear purpose, not anymore.

He leaves everything but his bow, a knife, and a twelve foot long tactical rope on the edge of the forest, secures his pack in a tree to keep it away from curious creatures, and ventures into the heart of the undisturbed territory. He moves quietly, footsteps muffled by three inches of snow, but does not raise his bow until he has taken a ground position at the bottom of a massive Turkish Hazel tree. The leaves are dead by this time, but those that have held on provide decent cover in the light of the fading sun. He settles in, quiet and at ease, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the deer to come creeping through. There are several of them, more does and fawns than anything, but the stags that are present are impressive despite the meager foods of winter. He waits until they’ve settled, waits for the stags to ease off of alert and lower their own heads to graze. He is as silent as he always is as he makes a kill; two arrows, two targets hit, the heart and the eye. The largest, well racked of the stags falls, and the others scatter.

He takes a deep breath, lowers his bow, eases himself out of his spot. The stag is dead, there’s no doubt about it, but Clint says a prayer over the body as he cuts away the arrows anyway. He decides that this small clearing is as good as any, and he uses the tactical rope to hoist the carcass into a tree before gutting and bleeding it, across the throat and down the belly. Innards fall unceremoniously to the ground, and he nudges them into a neat pile; he’ll leave them to return to the forest when he’s gone.

He cleans his knife and arrows the best he can in the dark, the stains won’t show on black pants, and he settles back into the same spot under the hazel tree. He’ll be cold, but he won’t freeze, and the deer needs to bleed before he can carry it into town.

***

He wakes well before dawn. (He never really slept.)

It’s the third day away from the Tower (from Phil) and he’s hardly slept, but he feels the closer he gets to his destination, the less he needs it. He stands to check on the deer, and finds that the blood has drained well, and that most of the meat has frozen in the night; that makes it easier to carry. He slings his bow and quiver over his shoulder and slowly lowers the deer from the tree. The tactical rope has done its job and held through the night, so he winds it around his arm to carry it back. The deer he hoists over his shoulder, and he heads back in the direction he came.

***

It takes him two hours to hike into town. (He should have been able to do it faster.)

He stays away from the main roads, doesn’t want questions asked, but he still makes good time. The ground is frozen, not icy, and he doesn’t have trouble keeping his footing in the snow, but by the time he reaches the edge of town, the carcass is starting to wear him down; it’s the heaviest thing he’s carried in a while.

Most of Selcuk is still asleep in the early morning, but those that are awake and about do not disturb him; he is not the only one that has come this way this month. The Temple is on the edge of town, away from the main roads, but surrounded by the houses of those that were called to live there. He recognizes some of them as they peep through blinds and nudge aside curtains. He’s sure that some of them recognize him even if it has been more than a year since his last visit.

There isn’t much of the Temple left, not after all these centuries, but the foundation is still mostly visible, and he knows where the altar once stood. Light is just starting to top the hills when he lays the stag on the now-gone altar, and he can hear church bells starting to ring in town; no one will be around to bother him, not today, and probably not tomorrow. He lays his bow on the ground by the stag, along with the arrows that killed it, and sits down to just let himself be.

It’s Christmas morning, and there’s snow on the ground, but he isn’t cold, isn’t uncomfortable. He can feel Her presence settle over his shoulders like a comfort blanket as he begins to pray, low and to himself but unafraid for the first time in a very long time. He prays through lunch, and then through dinner, and well past midnight and into the next day. He doesn’t eat and he doesn’t sleep, but it has been an age and a half since he’s put time aside to do this properly, and he has a lot to make up for.

***

Clint steps back into the Tower two days after New Year’s. (It’s a new year, a good time to start over.)

He’s tired and dirty, but whole. JARVIS greets him in the elevator, and takes him immediately to the floor he shares with Nat. JARVIS says that Phil had asked to be notified when he returned, and he strangely has no problem with tabs being kept on him. He drops his bag by the door to his apartment, kicks off his shoes, and starts to strip for the first shower he’s had in a week. The water is warm, and he feels pretty good, and he isn’t surprised to find Nat perched on the bathroom counter when he steps out of the stall; he’s been expecting her.

Clint knows Natasha had known in the back of her mind about his system of beliefs and the Goddess that he worshiped, but he’s never been one to throw it in someone’s face (it’s a private thing that he keeps for himself), and knowing and _knowing_ are two completely different things. She tosses him a towel, but doesn’t say anything, just slips out of the bathroom with him and drops onto the couch to wait while he puts clean clothes on.

He hesitates, then drops onto his knees on the couch so he can push into her space, push her over and use her stomach as a pillow; Nat doesn’t protest, just shuffles back on the cushion to prop herself up on a few pillows. He sighs and sinks into her, glad to be home after a week on his own, and without asking she starts to card her fingers through his hair. He dozes off, comfortable enough with his surroundings and himself for the first time in a week to really do so, but a shuffle by the door soon after wakes him.

Phil is inching his way forward, trying not to disturb either of them, but he hasn’t been as quiet as he normally is since his injury, but he’s improving. Clint feels a smile tilt around his mouth when the other man stops to look at them, really look, and the archer raises his hand and waves the other man over. Phil lowers himself down onto the floor in front of the couch, he’ll need help getting up when they decide to move, and Clint drapes his arm over Phil’s uninjured shoulder and across his chest, letting his hand rest on his heartbeat.

Clint is safe, guarded by the two best people in his life, a piece of the Temple’s foundation bound around his neck and pressing into his skin, another reminder that he has everything he could ever want right here, and, for the moment at least, he lets himself be happy.

***

JARIVS wakes them for dinner. (Clint hasn’t had real food since he left.)

He and Nat help Phil off of the floor and together the three of them slide into the elevator and up to the communal floor to see what’s to eat. Clint is surprised to find Darcy in the kitchen, but she’s stirring away at a pot on the stove that smells divine while Dr. Banner adds in handfuls some something else. Steve, Thor and Dr. Foster are already sitting around the table, and Phil and Nat join them while Clint slips into the kitchen to see if he can help. Darcy brushes him away with a quiet ‘welcome home’ and ‘we’ve got this’, but she does pause to smile at him, so he turns around and sits himself down between Phil and Nat.

The entire team is present, Tony even managing to dig himself out of the lab to eat with them briefly before Science! takes him back away. No one asks him where he’s been or what he’s been up to, and he’s grateful. Halfway through the meal, JARIVS announces that they have a visitor, but doesn’t bother to let them know who it is; the conversation dithers down to silence while they wait for the elevator and possible bad news; this isn’t the first time dinner has been interrupted since they’ve come together as a team.

There’s a quiet shuffle, and a little jingle of metal on metal, and suddenly Clint has a lap full of overly excited dog. Lucky licks over his face, tries to shove himself all the way into his lap, and Clint can’t do anything but scoot back from the table and rub the mutt’s ears. When he finally gets Lucky to calm down enough to drop back to the floor, he looks to the table and finds that everyone except Nat and Phil are watching either him and his dog, or the young woman standing by the door. Kate looks good, if a little irritated, and she’s leaning on the door jamb with her arms crossed. He grins at her, and she trudges over to stand at his shoulder and whack him gently across the head.

“Next time you disappear,” she says, “Leave me a better note than ‘be back later’.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When Clint looks back at the table and catches Steve’s raised eyebrows, he figures it’s time for introductions.

“This is Kate Bishop,” he says. “She’s also Hawkeye, and she heroes when I can’t.”

“I’m the better Hawkeye,” Kate comments.

“That’s up for debate,” he says quickly. “Kate this is Steve Rogers, Thor, Dr. Jane Foster and her assistant, Darcy Lewis, Dr. Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark’s around here somewhere. You know Phil and Natasha.”

“Stark and I have met,” she says disdainfully. “He can stay somewhere else.”

Clint pinches her on the thigh and says, “Kate takes care of Lucky and my apartment building whenever I’m here or on a mission.”

“You own an apartment building?” Darcy asks.

“In Bed-Stuy,” Clint says.

“And he needs to hurry up and come take care of it himself,” Kate says. “That blonde moron on the fourth floor forgot to let her faucets drip when the snow hit while you were gone. I’m a day away from calling the plumber.”

“Don’t call the plumber,” Clint says. “I’ll be back tomorrow; I can take care of it myself.”

“You’re still going to end up calling the plumber,” Nat says over the lip of her cup.

“Don’t take her side, Nat!”

Kate continues to argue with him, badger like she always does, and as he thinks that this is the best ‘welcome home’ he’s ever gotten, he feels Phil’s good hand slide over his knee and rest there, the solid anchor that it always is, and admits that things might be starting to look up.


End file.
